


Ski Trips and Sherpa Jackets

by gspurdza



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Riverdale AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 01:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gspurdza/pseuds/gspurdza
Summary: When the gang decide to take a weekend ski trip, no one could predict a car crash and that Jughead Jones would have to come to Betty Coopers rescue. No one would predict the romance that ensues between the two friends.Slightly AU. Betty and Jug never were a couple





	1. The Crash

The gang had collectively decided a weekend ski trip at the Lodge's cabin would suit their needs to celebrate the end of their first semester of college. Though they saw each other quite frequently; Veronica and Archie having been sharing an apartment for the last 4 months and Betty and Jughead just a few floors apart in the college dorms, the group of friends had had little time for fun and normal teenage shanagins. 

At the idea of a weekend away, Betty had enthusiastically volunteered herself, and a slightly less enthusiast Jughead, to drive up a day ahead to start a fire and stock the fridge. Archie who had one more final to write would follow a day later with Veronica.

Jug would use his father's old hand-me-down pickup truck to lug up the skis and coolers of food. Betty having inherited her parents station wagon, had the back loaded with blankets and bedding and all the domestic apparel that both girls insisted were needed. 

Betty had taken the lead, Jug followed a few car lengths behind through the winding snowy back roads leading up the the Lodges secluded cabin, 3hours outside of Riverdale.

It was about half way that the snow began to fall, thick sheets that left their vehicle wipers in a sorry panic, doing little to clear their windshields. It was as they were about to cross the old wooden bridge leading up the driveway to the cabin that everything went to hell. 

Betty couldn't get her front de-fogger on her car to work and the visible gap in her windshield had grown smaller and smaller. 'We're almost there' was all Betty kept reciting in her head as the anxiety of driving began to get the best of her. Her thoughts came to a halt as she felt the wheels underneath her drift in the opposite direction she was choosing to stir. Black ice.  
Betty pumped the breaks and swerved wildly trying to get the car under control. It was no use. Before Betty could think to react, her car veered off the road at the end of the bridge and plumited hood-first into the icy winter lake. Betty felt the panic seize her body before her airbag went off and everything went black. 

 

Jug watched in horror as the scene unfolded before him in slow motion. His father's truck was much better at griping the icy ground and he was able to skid to a stop at the side of the road.  
Jug torn off his jacket and sprinted to the waters edge. The car was only partly submerged, likely to have hit the shallow bottom of the lakes edge. The water did however cover the hood and half of the front doors. Jug knew Betty was smart-could handle herself in a crisis, which is why his heart dropped in his chest when he saw no movement from the front seat and watched as water started to pour in a large crack in the front windshield.  
'Betty!' Jug screamed as he waded into the freezing river. The cold was like a thousand knives piercing his skin, the adrenaline coursing through him the only thing propelling Jug deeper into the icy trench.  
He reached the drivers side and tried fruitlessly to yank the door open.The water created a suction he couldn't overpower. All the while he kept calling Bettys name, hoping to get a response from the blonde ponytail buried in the deflating airbag. 

Jug waded round to the other side which was not as fully submerged. He managed to get the door open and nearly choked at all the blood that coated the side of Betty's face. She must have been knocked unconscious by the air bag, a large gash at the top of her hairline still oozing fresh blood. Jug eased the seatbelt off of her and prayed she didn't have any broken bones or internal bleeding that he might jostle around as he awkwardly dragged her from the car. 

He threw her over his shoulder, fireman style as he couldn't feel his hands anymore and didn't want to dunk Betty into the icy river twice.  
Jug knew it was a miracle when he finally made it to the bank and up the slop to the road. He had long lost feeling in his legs and feet and his fingers where faring no better. Betty was wet from the chest down and Jug worried, if not first from her injuries, that she might freeze to death.  
Jug not so graciously deposited Betty into the passenger seat and flew to the driver side, gunning the gas pedal, icy roads be damned  
'Please stay with me Betts, we'll get you warm and some help real soon.' Betty merely slumped unconsciously lower in her seat.  
As the cabin came into view Jug skided to a stop and leapt out the car to climb to Betty's side. He scooped her up in his arms and all but kicked the door down getting her inside the cabin.  
'Damn it' Jug cursed as he looked around wildly at the cold and dark cabin. Of course there was no fire lit or blankets or even bed sheets to be found- that's why him and Betty had gone up early.  
Jug made his way to the bare leather sofa and laid Betty gently down before sprinting back out to his truck for anything of use. His duffle bag with a sweater and some jeans where all he had in the way of warm clothing besides his Sherpa jacket.The blankets had all been in Betty's car. Jug didn't even have matches to light a fire in the fireplace. All he had was stupid skis an ski polls. 

Jug cursed loudly in frustration as he gave up and ran back inside, slamming the cabin door behind him, rushing to Bettys side. The bleeding from her head had thankfully stopped. She was breathing, but her lips and face had taken on a deathly looking blue color, her hands too. 

'You idiot, she's probably suffering from shock and hypothermia' a voice runs through Jug's muddled brain. 'But what can I do? She needs heat. Heat! Body heat?!'

Jug's thoughts are interrupted by the chattering of his teeth and it's as he feels some of the adrenaline leave him that he realizes his fingers and face must look about the same as Betty's. One more glance at Betty's limp form and he knows there's no other choice. Jughead kicks off his boots and begins to strip his wet jeans and soaked shirt. His teeth begin to chatter at an uncontrollable pace as he peels his wet boxers down his legs and stops to psych himself up for the next part: removing Bettys clothes as well.

'Dont hate me forever Betts, this is for your own good' Jug mumbles aloud as he makes quick work of her shoes, jeans and sweater. He pauses when Betty is down to her underwear and bra, but forges ahead at how utterly lifeless she looks lying there, grey and unmoving. Jug tries his best not to linger on the sight of Bettys puckered flesh and feminine curves as he sheds the last pieces of her clothing and lays his body directly over hers. 

She's feels so much smaller then Jug expected; his frame engulfing hers. He tries not to press all his weight on her chest in case of broken ribs. However, it means he has to press his hips and other male parts firmly to her, his elbows supporting him while his hands go to Bettys face. Her gash had stopped bleeding but Jug knew that didn't rule out internal bleeding or a concusion. Using a clean sleeve from his discarded shirt he tries to whip some of the blood from her face. The result is lack luster, the red stains mixing with the blue of her skin to create a sickening purple hue that looks as if the whole half of her face is bruised. Jug, knowing his medical skills are severely lacking, gives up and instead reaches for his jacket on the ground. He digs out his phone to call someone only to find he has no cell service. No help would be arriveing until tomorrow. Jug would have to wait out the night and pray Betty didn't take a turn for the worst. 

Almost all at once, the remaining adrenaline that had been keeping Jug going seemed to drain from his body. His limbs felt sluggish and his teeth continued to chatter as the goosebumps on his exposed flesh refused to deflate. With one arm, he awkwardly drapes his Sherpa jacket across his naked back and bottom. He could feel his body heat being eaten up my Betty's frame, though if she was giving off any in return he couldn't tell.  
'You're gunna be okay Bets' is the last thing Jug says before darkness pulls him under.


	2. Waking Up

Betty awakes to a pounding headache and an urgent need to take a deep breath. As her eyes flutter open, she’s met with mostly darkness, all she can make out are the shadows of a cabin and a boy, no man, lying directly on her chest! 

Betty wills her eyes to quickly adjust to the dim lighting and is immensely relieved and confused to find Jughead Jones’ familiar face lying off to the side of her shoulder, his warm breath tickling her exposed skin. One hand cradles her neck while the other has a grip on her opposite shoulder. 

Betty fruitlessly tries to adjust one of her hips from the awkward angle she is laying and is shocked to feel the brush of her thigh against a decidedly male appendage. In a state of complete horror and embarrassment, Betty comes to learn she is completely naked and so is Jughead! Her fuzzy mind races for a possible explanation but none are forthcoming. All she can recall is their plans of a ski trip, driving up to the bridge, and finally her car losing control. 

‘I must have crashed’ Betty reasons to herself, though her lack of clothing and Jug, her very platonic friend on top of her was yet to be explained. 

Betty tries again to move and sit up but is rewarded with the feeling of bile rising in her throat and a throbbing pain coming from her temple and her ribs. Jug’s limp body pins her down and is too heavy for her to shift away from. Gingerly moving a hand, not trapped under Jug, she feels something slightly sticky and metallic smelling on her cheek and forehead. Her hand comes away tinted slightly red. Had she been bleeding? Her finger edges the cut along her hairline and Betty yelps in both pain and surprise. 

Her scream is enough to pull Jug from his dreamless sleep. His head jerks up instantly, his eyes wide with panic and adrenaline all over again. 

‘Betts, you’re awake! Oh my god, you scared me!! I was so worried you were going to die on me’ Jug breaths out in a relieved, hurried whisper as his hand goes to her face, caressing her cheek and smoothing back the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

Betty’s face must have betrayed her confusion and discomfort as Jug seemed to remember himself and his naked body on top of hers. ‘Shit’ Jughead swears as he lurches up suddenly, legs caught between her knees. The cold gust of air causes Betty’s nipples to instantly harden as she simultaneously tries to sit up and cover herself with her hands. 

‘Shit’ Jug curses again as he reaches one hand to cover his junk, trying to look anywhere except at Betty’s naked form laid out before him. He hastily grabs his Sherpa jacket that had fallen to their ankles and clumsily drapes it over Betty’s exposed torso, his hand retracting quickly after Betty’s hand moves to take it. 

‘Betty, I’m sorry. I had to take your clothes off, they were soaked from the river. I didn’t know what else to do to keep you warm! All I could think of was that stupid Zac Efron movie with the boat and the girl who almost drowns that Veronica made us watch; Charlie Cloud or something like that. He used his body heat to keep her from going into shock… Honest Betts, I wasn’t trying to be some pervert,’ Jughead rushes to say in one breath, his cheeks and neck turning insanely heated and red even as goosebumps reappeared on his body. 

Betty half sits, her chest and the top of her thighs barely covered by his jacket as Jug rambles on, seemingly oblivious to his own nakedness; his one hand doing a poor job at covering his manhood. 

‘Jug, its okay’ Betty interrupts him. ‘Just tell me what happened. And help me find my clothes!’


	3. Catching Hormones

Using his free hand not covering himself, Jughead half stands, half-kneels over the couch, groping blindly at the two piles of clothes scattered across the ground. The dim lighting means Jughead must rely on his chilled fingers alone. After a moment, his hand closes around a piece of fabric that doesn’t seem to be soaked or still damp and holds it up in triumph. Jug’s face burns bright red as he brings the item closer to his face and realizes the small piece of cloth is Betty’s very pink, very feminine underwear; her ‘thong,’ the recesses of Jug’s brain calling up the proper word. 

He’s glad for the shroud of darkness as he pushes the item into Betty’s hand before mumbling about finding dry clothes and scrambling up from the couch. Conscious of Betty’s presence, Jug tries his best to back away toward his duffle left by the cabin door without fully turning around, not wanting to give Betty a full view of his bare ass. His naked shuffle is rewarded as he finds his bag and quickly throws on some clean boxers. Feeling much less exposed, Jug begins retelling Betty what exactly had happened as he finishes throwing on a new shirt, jeans and socks before rummaging around for something for Betty to wear. 

“…I must have passed out right after, and umm, here we are” Jughead uneasily concludes as he’s grabbing a pair of sweats and a tshirt for Betty when he hears a cross between a groan and a hiss coming from the couch.

He races back to where Betty lies, ‘Hey, you okay?’ 

A single frustrated tear roles down Betty’s cheek, her position on the couch unchanged since Jughead left. Betty’s panties are clinched in her fist as her other hand still clutches Jug’s Sherpa jacket to her chest. 

Hearing about her own crash and having no memory of the incident seemed to scare Betty even more than if she had remembered. The possibility that she might have never awakened was a chilling thought. And now instead of being grateful for Jughead saving her life, all she can feel is the shame and humiliation of her male friend having to strip and cuddle her to keep her alive; her imperfections and insecurities all laid out before him. Betty was painfully aware she was undoubtably the only virgin freshman at her college, and the knowledge that this was the first time a boy had seen her naked left a sick feeling inside. 

It’s as Betty had tried to lean over and put her underwear back on that her ribs loudly protested causing her to moan in pain. Jughead rushing to gently sit by her side, careful not to jostle her any more than necessary as his eyes cloud with concern, is Betty’s final undoing.

‘I can’t…it hurts to lean over..I’ and that is all she gets out before Betty is full-on crying. Tears cascade down her cheeks, leaving watery trails in the midst of the streaks of dried blood.

‘Betty, Betts, hey, its okay. Let me help you’ are Jughead’s calming reassurances- his own feelings of discomfort forgotten at the sight of his friend in pain.

Betty sniffs loudly as her tears seem to slow. She nods her head and tentatively hands her panties back to Jug. 

His hands shake ever so slightly as he tries to discreetly figure out what part goes where of the proffered garment. ‘It was much easier taking them off’ Jug almost says aloud in frustration. He somehow manages to right the item and slip them over Betty’s ankles and up to her knees but pauses as his fingers brush against the delicate skin of her thighs.  
He coughs awkwardly and reluctantly looks up to meet Betty’s eyes, silently asking her permission. Betty’s face is red- and not just from blood, assuring Jug she must be as uncomfortable as he is. Wordlessly Betty lifts her hips an inch off the couch, enough for Jug to slide her underwear the rest of the way up; his hands disappearing under his jacket. Jug doesn’t know where to keep his eyes as his fingers skim the crease where Betty’s thighs meet her body. He feels a tingling sensation in his stomach as warmth, uninvited, rushes to his lap and Jug is quick to pull his hands away. 

‘This is Betty, your friend, get a grip man’ is what Jug has to remind himself as he helps her into his tshirt next, willing away the discoloured thoughts about his hands on Betty’s creamy skin and shapely figure.

It’s not that Jug had never noticed. Jughead had been a late bloomer in high school; that he was certain of. While Archie was off chasing after girls, Jug had preferred his laptop and a corner booth at Pops to pass his time. That didn’t mean he was oblivious. He objectively noticed when a girl was cute or not; had come to the conclusion long ago that Betty Cooper was beautiful. To him it had simply been a fact; the sky is blue, the grass is green, Betty is beautiful. The thought had stopped there. 

Now as Jughead gently tugged his shirt over Betty’s head, careful to avoid the bloody cut on her hairline, he feels the strange inkling of desire and lust pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t felt like this since his first week at college. Archie had invited them all to a party he had heard about, and while there Jug had been cornered by a pretty blonde, senior. 

She didn’t tell Jug her name, only asked if he had been ‘welcomed properly’ to Riverdale community college. Jug had been dumbfounded when she had leaned in to kiss him as her hand snaked down the front of his pants. It had been his first real kiss, first real encounter with a women and he couldn’t help his hormonal response to kiss her back as he hardened against her stroking hand. Before Jug even knew what was happening, she had unzipped his pants, hiked up her skirt and was fucking him as he sat on the window ledge, clinging to the frame for dear life. He had finished embarrassingly fast, but that didn’t stop his brain and his dick from perking up slightly for the next few weeks every time a girl in a skirt walked by. 

He had finally started to notice girls, and the last thing he wanted was to catch feelings for one of his best friends. 

As Jug helps Betty into sweatpants and tightens the drawstring for her, he can’t help the paranoia about the hormones crowding away in his brain.p>


	4. Sandwiches

Now fully dressed, Jughead offers Betty a hand to stand and its then that she feels the true extent of her injuries. Her head pounds furiously as her vision blurs slightly and her balance is thrown. Her ribs are on fire, and if Betty didn’t know better, she’d swear Jug had concocted the whole river story to cover up that he had simply run her over a few times with his truck.

Jughead’s cold palm is braced on her lower back while his other hand has a hold on her forearm, steadying her as Betty got her bearings.   
‘Thanks Jug, I think I’m okay now, just my ribs and my head. I can stand on my own.’   
Jug seemed hesitant to let go, his hand not leaving her back until Betty finally meets his eyes and gives a shaky half smile of encouragement. 

Wordlessly Jug hands his phone to her before padding off to look for a light switch and other such useful things he had neglected in his urgency to help Betty.   
‘No service’ Betty calls just as Jughead locates a switch on the far wall and blinds the both of them for a moment with its harsh overhead lights. 

Glancing around, Betty truly gets a glimpse of what a harrowing experience Jug must have been through. Clothes wet and strewn about the floor. Amongst them the collar of Betty’s white sweater stands out; beaded and stained with an alarming amount of dried blood, much like the sleeve of Jug’s t-shirt. Even with the lights, the cabin is cold and foreboding with its dark leather furniture and taxidermy animal heads mounted to the wall above the fire place. Its lack of use in many months is evident by the empty fire and thin layer of dust that coats the table tops and mantle. 

Betty notices the curtains on the windows are only partly closed, yet no light filters through. Checking Jughead’s phone again, she realizes its already 10:53! They had left Riverdale around 1 o’clock that day and would have been close to the cabin by 4 if all had gone to plan. Betty finds herself marginally relieved that Jug had passed out earlier with her; not being able to fathom the panic and anxiety of waiting nearly 6 hours for an unconscious friend to possibly never wake, with no way to contact the outside world. 

The bang of the cabin door pulls Betty from her musings. Not realizing he had left, Jughead emerges with a large cooler in his bare arms, swirls of snow following him in as he kicks the door shut and heads towards the kitchen.  
‘Might as well eat since we’re stuck till morning when Arch and Veronica get here’ he says breezily even as his teeth chatter, kicking off his boots; still stained dark from the water.

All at once, Betty is immensely grateful for Jughead’s 'no f's given' attitude and common sense. If it had been Archie or Veronica in his place, both would be pale and frantic, looking to an injured Betty for answers. Jug had always been very self reliant; possibly a necessity of his childhood and rough home life growing up.

Even though they had been friends since middle school, Jug was very tight lipped about his personal life. From the snippets Jug had shared with Betty over time, she gathered that his parents had never really been in the picture. His father was an ex-gang member and a constant relapsing/recovering alcoholic. His mother was distant and cold; seeming to blame Jug personally for his birth that rendered her a teen mom at 17. From the worried confessions by Archie about their mutual friend years later, Betty was aware at one point in sophomore year Jughead had even been homeless. 

It was a far cry from Betty and Archie’s cookie cutter families. Even Veronica’s ex-mob boss father seemed tame in comparison; sending pearls to his daughter during his short stunt in prison, while her mother fawned over her at home.

As Betty silently observes Jughead unloading the cooler of food into the fridge and promptly throwing together sandwiches for the two, Betty wonders how its possible Jughead had turned out to secretly be such a gentle and caring a person as he is. 

 

‘Voila!!’ Jug loudly exclaims, turning to offer Betty a heaping sandwich, much too large for one person. Betty chuckles lightly at his enthusiasm and immediately winces as her ribs protest the action. Jug’s brows crinkle in concern, the grin quickly slipping from his face. 

‘After we eat I can help you clean up that cut on your head and uhh, wrap your ribs.’

It comes out of his mouth as more of a shy question than an actual statement. Betty notes the tips of Jughead’s ears turning red; his beanie strangely absent from his head (a good look) Betty secretly thinks. His concern and hesitancy to not over-step boundaries when hours earlier he was literally striping her naked, so absurdly contradictory. His uncharacteristic bashfulness only endears Jughead more to her, her embarrassment forgotten about the whole incident as a smile creeps up her cheeks. 

‘I’ve always wanted to play doctor with you, Juggie’ Betty can’t help but tease. 

Jughead loudly chokes on his sandwich in reply.


	5. Bruises

After eating his whole sandwich and half of Betty's as well, both go their separate ways to explore the cabin. 

Betty finds a small half bath down the hall, relieving her bladder before doing a double take in the mirror while washing her hands. 

'I look terrible!' is all Betty can think. Her ponytail askew with clumps of dried blood fringing the side of her face. Her cut is long and deep, and though she never considered herself a vain person, she is immensely grateful that the scar she's bound to get won't be too obvious. It would mean taking out her iconic ponytail to hid it completely though, which makes Betty a tad disappointed. 

The rest of her face seems fine other than her mascara beginning to smudge a little, and obviously all the blood that had dripped down her face and pooled on her neck and collarbone. There are a few white hand towels under the sink and Betty goes to work scrubbing the blood away as best she can. 

About 10 minutes of vigorous scrubbing later, her face is pink and glowing. Her hair is damp in the front and looking worse for wear so she gets rid of her ponytail, letting her hair fall in waves just past her shoulder. 

She doesn't have time to feel guilty about ruining Mrs. Lodges expensive towels because Jug is tentatively sticking his head through the door, medical kit in hand.

'Found this bad boy in the upstairs bathroom. Also the thermostat is passcode protected and auto set to 65. Apparently the Lodge family coven like the blood of their victims icy cold before they feast' 

Jug's joke falls flat as he takes in Betty's smiling face free of blood, hair down and his own clothing dwarfing her frame. 

'wow' 'Jug breathes silently to himself.

In the ten plus years he had known her, he'd only seen Betty's hair out of a pony tail exactly two times. The first time was the first day of grade 2. Betty had two braided pig tails instead, with little pink ribbons that Reggie Mantle had tugged on at recess making Betty cry. Jug stood by awkwardly and watched as Archie, with a sticky hand on her shoulder, had tried to clumsily comfort her. Later in the day Reggie had found an old pudding cup dumped inside his bag as he was packing up to leave. Jug had gone home with a smug look on his face. To his dismay, Betty had returned the next day with a single ponytail, sans ribbon.

The second time wasn't until their junior prom, which Jug's three friends had dragged him to. He remembers thinking Betty had looked especially beautiful that night, her hair down around her bare shoulders. The shiny fabric of the dress she wore bringing out the light in her eyes. Jughead had actually contemplated whether dancing with Betty (as friends of course) would ruin his loner, weirdo aesthetic he had been crafting all through high school. Regardless, Trev Brown had swooped in and beat him to the punch, after which Jug had lost his nerve, telling himself it was a stupid idea anyway. 

Now standing in front of him, hair down and wearing his clothes, he realizes Betty is much more than just beautiful. Jug feels a rush of warmth flooding his nether regions; a truly caveman-esk possessiveness toward Betty creeping into his chest. The next thoughts barreling through his brain are about how Betty would look OUT of his clothes. A question to which he already knows the answer. Fantastic. 

Jughead's face turns pink in shame and his eyes drop to the ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor. Betty is puzzled by his odder-than-normal behaviour, quirking a brow, 'What?' to which 'Jug dumbly replies, 'uhh nothing'

Betty's brows crease together as she snatches the kit from his hands, rummaging around without making further comment. 

She manages to clean her own head wound and uses 4 butterfly strips to close the cut. Jug leans against the bathroom wall looking anywhere but at her. 

His baby blues fly to her face though as she softy calls his name, the roll of long bandages extended in her hand. 'Think you could help me wrap my ribs?'

Jughead visibly gulps but accepts the bandages, realizing he had no excuse not to help; after all he had offered earlier. That was before he started imagining Betty naked of course. Her preceding to lift up his shirt to allow him better access to her ribs in the moment doesn't help either. 

His heart stutters though, all lustful thoughts forgotten as he takes in Betty's battered frame. Large, splotchy bruises were already beginning to form on one side of her ribs. Some so damaging they skipped right from blue to dark purple. Another, more angry looking, diagonal bruise in the shape of a seatbelt starts a few inches below her sternum and disappears under her shirt. 

Betty watches Jughead's eyes go wide and is momentarily confused until she looks down to see the damage herself. Before she realizes what's happening, Jughead is kneeling down in front of her, his fingers gently ghosting over the marks on her skin.

'Oh Betts' the words come out almost strangled. 

A shiver runs through her as she feels the heat of Jug's warm breath fan across her chest. Betty doesn't know what else to do but burry her fingers into the flannel on Jughead's shoulders as he ducks his head, nose nudging her shirt up further, before he presses a kiss to the seatbelt shaped bruise right between her breasts.


	6. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of plot in this chapter. I felt it necessary to focus on what's running through Bettys brain. I've seen far too many friends to lovers ff where Jug pines away while Betty is oblivious until suddenly she's totally in love. Very unsatisfying as far as character development. Anywho, end of rant. Enjoy!

Betty can't seem to control her body; her eyes rolling back behind her lids, her fingers fisting tighter into Jughead's flannel, as her mouth falls open in a breathy 'ohh'. Literal butterflies fill her stomach and a chill runs down her spine.  
It was decidedly the most erotic experience Betty had ever had in her 19 years on earth. Her one time makeout session with Chuck Clayton at a party senior year, paling in comparison.

Jughead's lips were so incredibly soft and gentle against her skin; leaving a trail of kisses down her chest and flitting across her stomach until every bruise had been properly treated. 

All the while, Betty ignores the alarm bells go off inside her head. 'This is Jughead, Jughead! Your friend! Friends don't kiss other friends like this.' 

Whatever rational argument her mind conjures up, her sensory details override. Instead she finds herself leaning further towards Jug's face, letting out a soft groan at the sensation of his warm fingertips skimming her waist. 

When Jug had run out of purple and blue to kiss, he leans back. His eyes shining blue and sincere, sorrow over her pain clearly written on his face as he meets her eyes, searching for what exactly, neither Betty or Jughead are quite sure.

'Jug...' the single syllable, needy and broken, slips from between Betty's parted lips and seems to break them both out of whatever trance they were in.

Jughead clears his throat as Betty's hands release his flannel in exchange for the hem of her shirt, lifting it up again as Jug begins to wrap her ribs. 

The silence that hangs in the air between them is heavy and thick, full of all the things unspoken between the pair. 

Jug silently berates himself for his impulsive action. He had simply been powerless against the pull Betty seemed to have on him. His need to protect her, ease her pain, seemed to outweigh any shyness or hesitancy on his part. Betty's graceful fingers twisting into the collar of his flannel and her sighs had only speared him on.

In Betty's defense, she had been wholely unprepared for the waves of pleasure that had overtaken her when Jug's lips had met her skin. She had never imagined Jughead, of all people, would do such a thing.

For as long as she'd known him, Jug had been seemingly immune to the charms of an enticing women like Veronica or the swish of a short dress on a bombshell like Cheryl Blossom or Josie McCoy. Betty could have easily believed Jughead was a virgin like herself if she hadn't heard the gossip first hand from Archie and Ronnie, stating the opposite.

It was one of the first Saturdays after starting college. Betty had been sitting with Veronica at breakfast when Archie had called, hollering into the phone and laughing uncontrollably as he dared Veronica to guess the good news. 'Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III is virgin no more!' he had bellowed into the phone loud enough for Betty to hear across the table while Veronica had the cell pressed tightly to her ear. Meanwhile Jughead's own threats to pummel Archie if he said another word could be heard in the background. Veronica had shook her head and hung up saying 'boys will be boys' with an exaggerated eye roll. Betty had gone quiet the rest of meal, feeling unsettled with the very private information her other friends didn't have a problem sharing. 

She couldn't shake the sinking feeling that churned her stomach and another emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. Something like disappointment had clouded her sunny mood, and for the life of her, Betty couldn't understand why.

Perhaps because the new revelation was a painful reminder of how fast their worlds were changing. Betty hated change. Hated the idea of growing up and losing the memories and fun times to make way for adult responsiblities and worries. Betty's own unchanging ponytail a living testament to her biggest fears. 

The only constant in her life had been her friends; something she had hoped would never change. Veronica with her fierce love and flawless pearls. Archie with his golden retriever loyalty in opposition to his dependably impulsive behaviour. Jughead with his brooding exterior and sardonic humour. 

Betty could clearly remember when her dependable friends had started to change and their relationships morphing with them. 

Veronica and Archie had decided to fall in love senior year. Their groups hang outs dwindling after being turned into uncomfortable quasi double dates. Ronnie and Archie cuddling on one side of a booth at pops, making heart eyes while ignoring Betty and Jug.

Slowly, both Veronica and Archie had become slightly distant, more flaky. It's was a lot of 'Raincheck, B?' and 'Gee sorry Betty, I totally forgot! You can come with me and Veronica if you want'

Betty knew more changes were coming when over the summer Veronica had started dropping hints that 'Maybe, just maybe B, you and I should expand our wings in college. Meet new people, try new things'. 

Betty found out a week before labor day that it meant Veronica had no intention of keeping her promise of being roomies with her. Choosing Archie and leaving both Jughead and herself to bunk with strangers at the Riverdale community college dorms. 

Betty couldn't stay angry at the two - only saddened that they were now at an age that significant others would take presidence over mere plutonic friendships. 

All the while Jug had remainded unchanged; same ripped jeans and witty banter. His aversion to the female species evident in his refusal to have a prom date. 

Betty discovering Jug presumably liked another girl; had given her enough if his time to claim his virginity, was testament that Jughead too, could and would change. 

The tender way he was currently bandaging her rib cage, taking extra care not to bruise her further has Betty thinking maybe not all change is bad.

She lets her eyes exam the young man still kneeling before her. Right away she's struck with the realization that Jug still hadn't put back on his iconic crown beanie. 

He looks much older without it. His dark locks are thick and hang haphardly down into his eyes. It's a look people would pay good money to their hairdressers to craft; casually tussled and looking carefree even with ten pounds of gel, taking hours of sculpting to achieve.

Meanwhile, Jughead's hair was free of product, naturally thick and curling onto his forehead in all the right ways. Betty silently wonders why Jug would purposely hide it under his hat all these years. 

Her eyes take in his lidded ones, his fringe of eye lashes dark and thick like the rest of his hair, framing the impossibly blue eyes Betty is already familiar with. 

Betty always thought Jug had pretty eyes. Had even teased him on occasion in grade school when she had caught Ethel Muggs quietly mooning over him. 

She takes in his nose next, straight and pointed; almost feminine looking for a man. Still pleasing non-the-less. 

His lips are what captive her. Uneven in their dispersement; thinner upper lip while thick and pouting on the bottom. An invisible cupids bow splitting his bottom lip into two equal halves. Right now his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth, signaling Jug deep in concentration. Betty wonders what his tongue would feel like on her; having already discovered how much she likes his lips. 

Said lips start to move and Betty is too captivated by their beauty to understand that Jug was trying to tell her something. 

Jughead's thumbs lightly pressing into the skin along her hipbones causes Betty to jump and dart her eyes away. Jug nervously chuckles, saying for the second time, 'Betts, I'm done'.


	7. Layers

Jughead couldn't have been more surprised when he glanced up from his attempts at first-aiding to catch Betty staring. 

He had seen the same expression many times on Betty's face over the years. It would appear often as they sat and studied together. Her head and shoulders slightly hunched over as she analyzed the lines on the page, trying to make sense of the hieroglyphics that were their AP calculus and chemistry textbooks. Her eyes would be so intently focused, rapidly darting back and forth that they almost seemed to gloss over. Until suddenly her head would snap up and she'd begin to furiously scribble answers in her notebook. 

Her eyes held the same look now, only her gaze is directed at... his lips?! 

Jug can't help feeling a tad self conscious. He wasn't used to Betty analyzing him. A person like Veronica, it was to be expected; her gaze always so clinical it made Jughead squirm whenever it was just the two of them alone. With Betty, Jug never felt judged. Betty's study of his mouth moments after he'd used it to kiss her bruises makes him anxious as the back of Jug's knees begin to sweat.

Jug can't help the nervous chuckle that escapes him as he tells Betty he's all done and suggests they get ready for bed. 

 

'Bed' being the operative word.

There where exactly 3 beds in the cabin. One queen in the master (meant to be for Veronica and Archie) and a twin-sized bunk bed in a room Betty and Jug had been warned earlier that they would have to share.

Knowing it was just for the weekend, Betty hadn't had any qualms about taking the lower bunk. Now, Betty's brows knit together as she takes in the bare bones of the bed frame, the lone twin mattress looking cold and uninviting. None of the beds in question had bedsheets or pillows; their bedding remained lost in the back of Betty's car, submerged in the frozen lake. 

Betty notes Jughead's neutral expression as he peers around her shoulder at the desolate sight. 

'Well at least we won't have to sleep on the floor.' Betty tries to be cheery; misplaced guilt that this is all her fault nagging at her brain. 

Jug seems to sense this, his own dark humor coming to play as he mumbles 'i've slept in far worse places' before nudging her arm, smirk playing on his lips, as he heads back toward the living room. 

'We'll just layer up to keep warm. Tomorrow when Ron and Arch come we'll figure it out' Jughead calls as he goes to his duffle in search of warm clothes.

His words are meant to comfort and reasure but Betty knows it's all for not as she glances over at Jug's nearly empty duffle bag. 

Betty is already wearing his pajamas and Jug is in his second days worth of clothes. All that's left is a pair of ripped jeans, a flannel shirt, a pair of boxers, and a set of holey socks. 

Betty could only describe Jug's face as sheepish as she scolds him for all of mankind's inability to properly pack. 

'Honestly, I was gunna leave the skiing to you, Veronica and Archie. I had planned on chilling in a heated cabin working on my novel. Why pack snow pants and sweaters for that?' 

Betty only rolls her eyes as she points in his bag to lay claim to his flannel and socks. Jug makes her take his jeans as well, kindly helping her riggle into each item over her existing clothes. 

Even with the double layer, its still impossibly cold in the cabin.The temperature had clearly dropped for the evening and with the thermostat refusing to cooperate, Betty knew it was going to be a long night. 

When Jug sees Betty shiver and tries to give her his Sherpa jacket too, Betty stubbornly refuses.  
'What are you gunna do to keep warm then?' Betty incredulously asks. 

Jug just shakes his head and replys softly, 'Like I said, I've slept in far worse' 

Betty's mouth hangs open, horrified that Jughead's comment earlier hadn't been a joke. Jug distracts her by placing his toothbrush in her hand, gently nudging her in the direction of the bathroom. 

'Get ready for bed, Cooper' and the discussion was over.


	8. Bunk Beds

An embarrassed flush covers Betty's cheeks as she trades spots with Jug behind the bathroom sink, handing his now used toothbrush back to him.

Never in Betty's life had she met someone so casual about sharing such a personal object. Had their been an apocalypse, Betty didn't believe her own family would be willing to split so much as a stick of gum with her. And here Jug was offering her his toothbrush first, not forcing her go to bed with the taste of river water and turkey sandwich in her mouth. For this she is truly grateful.

In their room, Betty slowly crawls onto the bottom bunk, mindful of her tender ribs. She settles onto her side facing the wall, curling into herself as far as she possibly can in hopes of retaining some body heat.

If she thought it was cold standing on the chilled tiles of the bathroom, it was even worse as she lay immobile. Frigid air seeps through the ripped knees in Jughead's jeans along with the holes in the heels and big toe of his socks. Her second layer of sweatpants and flannel doing little to stop the chill from leeching into her bones. 

Betty closes her eyes and wills her teeth not to chatter as she hears Jughead flick off the lights, momentarily confused by the sudden weight on her until she cracks an eyelid to see Jug draping his Sherpa jacket over her torso. Betty shuts her eye, smiling to herself as Jughead takes the bunk ladder two rungs at a time.

The bed groans under his weight as he settles in; Betty unsure how he'll survive the night in just his single layer of flannel and jeans.

She wants to offer his jacket back to him but is minutely warmer with the extra layers of fleece and denium. Instead she selfishly tucks her chin under the collar and breathes in Jughead's scent. It was a strange mix of tide laundry detergent, coffee, old books and Jughead's shampoo. The combination seeming to relax Betty as she hears Jug wishing her a good night. 

'Thanks Juggie, good night'

 

Time seems to stand still as both wait for sleep to claim them. Jug hadn't been joking about sleeping in worse, remembering his 2 week stunt living at the Twilight drive-in in sophomore year. The projection booth didn't have proper insulation or central heat, yet Jug had resolutely curled up in a ratty sleeping bag on the floor for 14 cold November nights. If he hadn't development a minor case of pneumonia he might have stuck it out all winter before coming home.

Now as he lay freezing, tossing and turning on the top bunk, he tries to summon that same stubbornness to get himself through the night. Thinking of anything and everything to distract from his frozen fingers and toes. 

 

Jughead lets out a frustrated sigh; feeling like the leaky air mattress he'd slept on countless times at the Andrew's growing up. The air supply seemingly fine one minute until suddenly he found his back hitting the hardwood floor underneath. Only now it was any vestige of warmth his body possessed slowly fleeing, his teeth abruptly beginning to chatter. 

Jug's mind wanders to his bunk mate, who was suspiciously quiet since whispering goodnight. Good, he thinks without any malice, at least one if us should get some sleep tonight. 

Against his better judgement Jughead leans down over the bunk railing to catch a glimpse of a sleeping Betty Cooper. He's surprised when green eyes meet blue, peeking up from under the collar of his jacket. 

'Can't sleep?'

'Nawh, too busy thinking about how all our science textbooks lied to us. Heat definitely doesn't rise'

A soft giggle only slightly muffled by his coat filters through the cold room, warming Jug's heart considerably. 

A long pause follows in which Jug realizes he's been staring at Bettys face for far too long. He moves to pull his head back but Betty's quiet voice stops him. 

'Jug, if your cold, if you want to, you could come lay with me.' 

'Betty, I ..' 

'Its okay Jug, we have clothes on this time, it's a matter of necessity... Besides we're both adults'

Jug nearly snorts at her matter-of-fact argument for the new sleeping arrangement. He would be having a much easier time saying yes to the idea of sharing a bed if they, in fact, were not adults. Jughead wishes he was 9 years old again for the rare but sacred movie nights at the Coopers. Betty tucked under a blanket between to him and Archie as Scooby-Doo played on the small TV in her bedroom. Back then Jughead hadn't had such lurid thoughts about his female friend; only thinking that he didn't mind Betty's warmth next to him and that the smell of her strawberry shampoo was kinda' nice.

Now Jug wills his nerves to calm and his breathing to stay regulated as he climbs back down the ladder and hesitates for a moment before settling behind Betty. The twin mattress is narrow even for one person laying straight out, and Betty has curled herself into a ball in the middle of the bed. Jug has no choice but to move so his chest is flush to her back while Betty offers up the corner of his Sherpa jacket for him to share. The heat of the jacket is nothing compared to the warmth radiating off Betty. Jug can't help scooting a little closer, until his knees press into the backs of hers and his nose is resting just above the top of her hair. 

'This okay?' he whisperes, one arm cradling his head while the other, not knowing where else to go, finds purchase on the top of Betty's hip.

Betty's hair tickles his nose as she nods and the pair simultaneously take a shakey, relieved breath; heat permeating both their bodies. 

 

As Jughead curls around her and drifts off, Betty can't help but think back to just a few hours earlier when they had been laying together on the couch. Despite the confusion, trauma and embarrassment, a small part of Betty had to admit she didn't hate having Jughead's lean body resting over hers.

It had been dark and she had been in a state of shock but the back of Betty's mind hadn't missed the chance to clock in details about Jughead that would never have been available otherwise. Specifically about how he had definitely filled out since the last time Betty had seen him without a shirt. He was still lean, but he no longer looked perpetually starved; with his lightly toned abs and arms, his shoulders broad and filled out. He was hairier too. She'd definitely noted the dark smattering of hair on the center of his chest, around his nipples and the thicker line of it extending from his navel down to his junk. He had a nice swatch of hair there too, the muscles alone his hipbones forming a deep V that called attention to it. 

It had also been the first time she'd seen a man's genitala up close before. She didn't live under a rock, had heard Veronica and other girls talk, seen movies, taken sex ed like the rest of her class mates and even accidentally stumbled upon some questionable Tumblr pages with gifs of couples doing unspeakable things. Never had she seen a flaccid one before though. From what she'd seen of Jug's 'equipment' it made her wonder what he'd look like and just how long and thick he'd be, fully erect.

Betty felt an unexpected heat curl between her thighs, her pulse racing and her ears beginning to ring at her dirty thoughts concerning her unsuspecting bed-mate and friend. She silently prayed Jughead wouldn't be able to notice a difference in her as she forced herself to think of anything else.

Little did she know Jughead's mind had taken a similar turn, dreaming about Betty earlier, naked and open, sprawled out on the couch. The difference being that Jughead had fallen asleep, his unconscious mind betraying him as Betty would belatedly find out the next morning. The object of her dirty thoughts evident even through three layers of clothes; firm, warm, and pressing, into her ass.


	9. Sweet Dreams

Betty woke slow and groggy from a dreamless sleep. Only a small sliver of light filtered through the burgundy curtains and refracted onto the wall by her bunk- Betty guessing it was still early morning. As her eyes adjusted and her body attempted to stretch, Betty became very aware of a number of things. 

Firstly, that she now had a pillow in the form of jugheads bicep under her head (a very comfortable pillow though she imagined his hand must be completely asleep by now). 

Secondly, that Jughead was still effectively spooning her; his morning wood pressing through their many layers of pants, the hand not trapped up by her head now under the hem of her t-shirt and flannel- his fingers lightly groping the flesh by her hip bone.

Third, and most alarming, was that Jughead had his face tucked down into her hair and was softly moaning in his sleep. Moaning!!

His breathe was warm on her neck and the exquisite sounds he made every few minutes were deep and throaty, the sleep in his voice evident. 

At first Betty wondered if he was having a nightmere. The moans steadily increasing in volume and frequency. That was until she heard unintelliable garble- sounding suspiciously like a name falling from his lips, and felt him thrust his hips even more tightly into hers. 

Betty didn't know what to do in such a situation. In all her mother's attempts to make sure she was well mannered and educated and prepared for anything,this was one time Alice Cooper had failed her daughter. 

Slowly, so as not to wake him and embarrass them both, Betty attempted to create some space between their bodies; her ribs protesting loudly as she rolled her body over to face him.

Jug's sleeping form seemed to have other ideas though. As she struggles to turnover, a callused hand finds her other hip and gently yanks her closer, his top leg forcing it's way between her thighs while his mouth comes to rest open and warm at the base of her throat. 

The hand Betty was sure to be asleep came up behind her to grab a fistful of hair where her ponytail would usually be. Betty is momentarily paralyzed by the shock of it all.

A second later, Jug moans again only this time Betty is positive it's HER name falling from his lips. A shudder runs through Betty, and although the room was still drafty and cold, she felt heat creeping from the spot where Jughead's mouth was resting all the way to the tips of her toes. 

Was Jughead Jones having a sex dream about her?!?!

'Ahhh Behhhtsss' is mumbled into her throat again, Jugs lips against her causing her knees to go weak. 

Suddenly, without warning Jugheads lips are moving on her exposed skin.This time with hurried, albeit sloppy, purpose. Betty can only gasp in shock as Jug pulls roughly on her hair, tipping her head back and allowing his mouth to suck a hungry trail from her neck to her ear. 

Betty head is swimming with emotions and curse words at the incredibly wonderful and sinful sensations assaulting her. Her own hands fist into the material on Jugheads chest as her resolve crumbles and her eyes close. Betty feels more than hears Jughead moan directly into her ear, his hot breathe and his teeth sinking into her earlobe enough for Betty to let her own loud moan escape her lips. 

Before Betty can convince herself it's a bad idea, she's ducking her head and chasing after Jugheads lips with her own. 

Their mouths meet in a wet and uncoordinated mess of lips, tongue, and morning breathe. 

Jughead is like a rabid animal starved for food in the way he's exploring her mouth with his tongue. His lips moving in quick succession over hers. 

A sigh escapes from the back of Betty throat seeming to only spearn him on further; his tongue retreating in favour of roughly sucking her bottom lip between his two. The hand tangled in Betty's hair tugs deliciously at her still, pulling her mouth away enough for Jug to bite down on her lip, hard.

'Oww Jug!' she exclaims, betrayal and shock choking her words and interrupting her lusty thoughts. At the sound of his name, Jugheads eyes fly open; Betty watching the play of emotions over them like a sea-blue movie screen. Lust to confusion to abdject horror all within a single second. 

Jug shoots back and away from her so quickly, he actually falls out of the bed. Betty would laugh if not for the guilt that instantly washes over her. 

Jughead had clearly been asleep while Betty was fully conscious. Sure, Jug might have been dreaming about her but that didn't mean she had the right to take advantage of his sleepy ignorance. 

 

Jughead woke to find himself flushed and terrified on the hardwood floor of the cabin; his bunk mate's eyes peircing his as he takes in her swollen lips and laboured breathing. It only served to confirm his biggest fears. 

Somehow even in sleep, Jughead had known his dream had felt much too real.


	10. Hands

The panicked voices of Veronica and Archie save both Jughead and Betty from acknowledging what had just transpired between them. The slam of the cabin door and frantic calls of ‘B!’ and ‘Jug, man, where are you?’ drift closer as Jughead stands to his feet and Betty sits up in bed, securing Jug’s sherpa jacket around her shoulders. Both seem to have lost   
their ability to speak, neither answer the shouts, waiting for their friends to deduce their whereabouts in one of only two bedrooms. 

Veronica is the first to burst through the door, a whirlwind of cashmere, feathers, and furry boots; Archie hot on her heels.

‘B!’ veronica exclaims, shouldering past Jughead to wrap Betty in a fierce hug. The surprised cry that sneaks out of Betty has Veronica pulling back, perfectly manicured brows furrowed in concern.

‘We saw Betty’s car at the bridge and all the blood on your clothes, what the hell happened?’ asked Archie, his eyebrows getting lost up high in his fiery red hair.

Betty seems to recover first as she stands and offers up the hem of her shirt for the pair to get a small glimpse at her bandaged ribs as she recounts her and Jugs harrowing ordeal. Jughead lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Betty breezes over the whole cuddling for warmth-naked part, simply saying Jug had kept her warm. The events of this morning not mentioned at all. 

Veronica still looks shocked, eyes wide, mouth open, unbelieving as Betty comes to a close. Archie good naturedly slugs Jug in the arm, ‘Never knew you had it in you man. A regular hero, eh?’ Jug simply shrugs self-deprecatingly as the initial shock and excitement wears off and they all head downstairs. Veronica whisks Betty off to the bathroom at once with her suitcase in hand, ready to relieve Betty of her ‘last resort rags’ she so lovingly termed Jughead’s borrowed clothes. 

Betty’s smile is sheepish, her eyes darting away quickly as she hands his jacket back before disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

Archie suggests they go attempt to pull Betty’s car out of the lake with his own truck as Jughead tugs on his still slightly damp boots and shoves a cold cinnamon raison bagel into his mouth. He pauses as he slips his jacket over his shoulders, the inside fleece still warm from Betty’s body heat. 

‘Come on, Jug!’ Archie calls, his voice pulling Jug’s nose out of the collar of his coat where he can still smell the remnants of Betty lingering in the lining. 

Jug can’t explain a strange uneasiness stirring in his stomach as they leave; his eyes skirting over to the closed bathroom door three times before he makes it outside.  
Betty’s scent stays with Jughead while he and Archie toil in the snow and ice for two hours until Betty’s car is back on the road. The sinking feeling in his gut doesn’t go away until they are back at the cabin with both girls. The sight of Betty, hair in her signature ponytail, large knitted sweater poking out of the fleece blanket wrapped around her, safe and warm by a roaring fire; only then does Jug’s stomach unknot.

Veronica though never the culinary genius, had offered to make lunch, Archie joining her in the kitchen leaving Jug alone for the first time with Betty since their friend’s arrival.

Betty’s cheeks flush pink as she watches Jug’s lithe frame deposit her rescued purse and bags by the couch and bend to take off his (again) wet boots. Fearing her voice might betray her, Betty simply offer’s a tight-lipped smile in thanks as Jughead’s eyes finally connect with hers. 

Neither speak. So many unspoken things running through both their minds. Betty wondering how much exactly Jughead’s semi-conscious brain remembered from that morning? Jughead wondering what had prompted Betty to go along with his sensual dream, and if she now regretted her actions? Both coming to the collective question of what this meant for their friendship, for them? 

Betty studies Jug as he collapses back onto the couch, a good three feet of couch cushion between them. She notes the chapped and slightly blue colour to his lips, Jug’s socked feet looking damp from his soiled boots. 

‘Jug?’ Betty breathes, silently offering up a corner of her blanket for him to crawl under. Jughead hesitates a moment, his eyes scanning over her face, as if trying to discern some underlying agenda in her actions. Finding none, he eventually scoots over, allowing Betty to spread the blanket over them both as her warm toes dig under his thigh. 

Jug doesn’t know what to do with his body, his long limps feeling gangly and awkward squished up next to Betty’s petite frame. In a fleeting moment of bravery, Jug lifts his arm and drapes it over the back of the couch; his fingers just grazing Betty’s shoulder. 

Jughead feigns interest in the crackling of the fireplace, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck until he feels his free hand being lifted and placed in Betty’s lap between her warm hands. A slow smile spreads across both their faces until Veronica and Archie come bustling into the room with plates of food- effectively destroying the moment.

Jug and Betty simultaneous shift apart, though under the blanket, Betty still clutches Jug’s hand in hers.


	11. Over Protective

'So as much as we are all very relieved that our dearest Betty has survived her little mishap in the river, I think we'd be remiss if we were to waste a perfectly good weekend away. Who's up for skiing after lunch?' Veronica asks the group, eyebrow cocked and triumphant smirk marking her burgandy painted lips.

Archie smiles wide and trusting up at Veronica from her perch on his lap while Betty stills under the blankets her and Jug share.

Jughead is utterly flabbergasted.

Did he and Archie not just spend 2 hours pulling Betty's mangled car from the river? Did Veronica not see the long cut on Betty's forehead or the patchwork of bruises on her ribs when she helped her change? Could no one else see the bloodied and damp tangle of his and Betty's clothing from yesterday still right at their feet?!.... A little mishap???!!! he wants to yell.

Instead a mirthless chuckle bubbles up from Jugheads lips, causing all three pairs of eyes to swing toward him.

'Veronica, considering Betty nearly DIED yesterday, don't you think a better plan would be driving back to visit, oh I dont know, a hospital perhaps?' 

The question comes out loud and harsh sounding, the underlying accusations at Veronica's blasé attitude towards Betty (her supposed "best friend"), definitely intended.

Veronica's face morphs into one of shock and feigned hurt.

'If I thought Betty's life was in any danger whatsoever I would have wired daddy and had her air lifted out of here hours ago!'

'Last I checked Ronnie, you weren't a doctor. Have you ever heard of internal bleeding? or concussions? Things you can't just see with your pomp and circumstance!'

Jugheads eyes beseech the others, trying to show them he wasn't simply overreacting. 

Judging by Archie's shocked face and the indignant one on Veronica's, he must be.

'Betts, help me out here' he pleaded turning to Betty.

Always the peacemaker when he and Veronica inevitably butted heads, Betty gives Jug's arm a reassuring rub to placate him.

'I'm okay Juggie, really...I don't want to ruin everyone's fun,' Betty whispers into his shoulder. 

'See, even Betty says she's FINE, Jughead!'

'She might be okay, but that doesn't mean she's up for skiing. What is she supposed to do in this god-forsaken place while you and Archie run off to have your fun?'

Jughead could literally feel himself getting angrier by the second. A sense of protectiveness towards Betty swelling in his chest as he tries to wrap his head around why no one else seemed to give a damn about what happened to her, including Betty herself?

'There's a hot tub out back that Smithers said should be fully operational. You can read her excerpts from your angsty novel while she bubbles if your determined to be paranoid and suck the fun out of everything,' Veronica snaps back. 'Betty you can borrow my bikini I packed, it's in my bag upstairs'.

'Thanks V' Betty smiles tightly at her friend. She knew from experience that it was easier to just go along with her friends' scheeming then put up a fight. (Something Jughead, for all his intelligence, had never learned).

Though her ribs were still very sore this morning, the cut on her head showed no sign of infection and no other symptoms of her car crash had gotten worse. It endeared Jughead all the more to her for his concern but Betty truly didn't believe she needed a hospital. 

Betty squeezes Jugheads arm in an attempt to reassure him, the tension in his body evident by the way his hand had migrated to her legging-clad thigh. His long fingers pressing just a tad too tightly into her soft flesh and Betty uses her other hand to gently pry it away.

Betty instantly misses the warm press of his palm but is relieved to feel Jugheads rigid body deflate next to her. 

With a resigned sigh and a 'Fine Ronnie, whatever you say,' Jug gives up. 

Betty sends him an apologetic smile as Archie and Veronica leave to change into their ski clothes. 

'So, hottubing?'


	12. White smoke and fire

Twenty minutes later, Betty finds herself standing before the vanity mirror in the master bedroom, the smallest bathing suit Betty has ever seen, struggling (and failing) to cover her body.

It was a bikini as promised, though Veronica had neglected to tack on the ‘thong’ part at the beginning of its description. Betty glances behind her shoulder, frowning into the mirror; her entire ass exposed to the world except for a single strip of material that snuck up dangerously high between her cheeks.  
In retrospect, Betty knows she shouldn’t have been surprised.

As long as she had been old enough to dress herself, her wardrobe had consisted of modest blue jeans and high necked sweaters. Veronica on the other hand wore everything rich, provocative and designer. Nothing was off limits; from plunging necklines to body-con dresses. Her outfits in high school always wildly inappropriate for the informal setting.  
Up until about junior year Betty had been envious of Veronica and the sexual confidence she and her expensive wardrobe seemed to exude. Betty had attempted to emulate her best friend on more than one occasion- buying daring pieces behind her mother’s back for a post-football game parties hosted at the Blossom mansion. No matter her state of confidence prior, whenever it came time to leave Betty would panic, blood rising to her cheeks and a knot forming in her stomach. She’d find herself covering lacy cut-out tops with cream coloured cardigans and layering tights under short leather skirts. Veronica would huff and roll her eyes, stating emphatically ‘B, girl, you have a body to die for, why cover it up?’ to which Betty would silently blush in response. 

Perhaps it was that Betty knew deep down who she was; sweet, helpful, unassuming; innocent. She was too vanilla to be sexy, too girl-next door to be alluring. The contrast between herself and Veronica, their individual successes (or shortcomings) regarding the opposite sex, antidotal proof of her self-diagnosis. Why bother trying when no one would buy it?

Now as Betty skims a hand down her front, the bikini top modest in comparison to the bottoms had it not been two cup sizes too small, she wonders if Jughead would notice. Wonders what it takes to turn the head of a plutonic, seemingly women-immune friend like Jug. Was it only in sleep that Jughead’s sexual drive kicked in?

A flush crawls up her chest at the mere thought and Betty physically shakes it from her head. Jughead couldn’t be interested in plain old Betty Cooper, could he?  
As her hand travels lower, Betty takes in the criss-cross of bruises marring her pale skin. Overnight some of the deeper ones had developed a sickeningly yellow hue around them, making her damaged skin appear much worse looking than they really were. 

Sighing in defeat and slipping on Veronica’s ridiculously plush, monogramed bathrobe, Betty decides her gruesome injuries will be more than enough to distract from her suit. ‘Nothing like broken ribs to catch a guy’s eye, huh Betts?’ she mumbles to herself before heading downstairs. 

 

Meanwhile, Jug finds himself feeling more conspicuous than ever before- loiter around the hot tub at the back of the cabin, his Sherpa jacket haphazardly paired with just his plaid boxers and sodden winter boots. 

Around him the scene was quite picturesque. The deck was covered by a wooden pergola, tea lights strung up between the old oak beams. It shielded the space from the light dusting of snow coming down, decorating the surrounding overgrown pine trees and hedging. Further back was nothing but a canvas of white rolling hills and blue skies. Normally Jughead’s hands would be itching to write it all down, capture the beauty around him, ‘Be inspired by the spectacular in the normal!’ as his professor constantly drilled into him.  
Instead Jug paces the deck, hands deep in his jacket pockets, eyes down, his head still upstairs where he knows Betty to be at that moment. 

If Jug had to put anything into words, it was that he was very nervous and confused. 

Nervous at Betty seeing his skinny body and pale legs in the light of day. Nervous to have a normal conversation, if that was what Betty wanted, about the incident this morning.

Confused as to how Betty could be so passive and selfless when it came to her own well-being versus the demands of Veronica.

Most of all, Jug is nervous and confused about the jittery feeling running through his veins and the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of sitting in an over-sized bathtub with a beautiful girl. He hadn’t had the pleasure since Mary Andrews had caught them playing in the mud back in the fourth grade and thrown Betty, Archie and himself into the shower together in just their soiled underwear and tank tops. They had been much too old for such treatment and Jughead recalls the embarrassment that had stained all their faces, each promising to never bring it up again.

That had been before the onslaught of puberty, crushes, teenage hormones and things that only seemed to complicate everyone’s lives in Jug's own opinion.

Jughead could say without a doubt now that he was definitely developing feelings for his childhood friend; their near death experience, subsequent undressing and morning make out session helping to awaken these feelings within. Now whether he should take a vow of silence like before or do something with them was yet to be decided. 

 

The squeal of the sliding door pulls Jughead away from his thoughts, as Betty gingerly steps onto the deck in her bare feet and bathrobe, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a stance of self defense. 

‘Hey’, ‘hi’, they both say in unison, an awkward silence eveloping them as colour appears on two sets of cheeks. 

Jughead silently curses his own social ineptitude and in one swift motion sheds his jacket and boots, ignoring the scalding sensation on his chilled skin, and jumps into the bubbling water. 

‘Come on in Betts, the waters fine’ he attempts at some levity as he settles into a corner of the pool. To her credit, Betty smiles at his antics before slowly letting her robe drop to the deck right along with Jughead’s jaw.

‘Its bad, I know. It doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think though, so don’t worry’ Betty quietly admits as she much more graciously steps into the tub. 

It takes Jughead a moment to realize that she’s referring to her bruised ribs and not her ungodly amount of cleavage or the sensuous way the shiny black material hugged her hips.

It was enough to make a sailor blush. 

‘Oh, uhh good’ is all Jug manages to say as his hands move to his lap, hoping the bubbles in the hot tub will cover up that fact that he is half hard already at the mere sight of her.

 

As Betty settles back into the corner across from Jug, she can’t help but sense the same tension from earlier hanging in the air. For all his good humour, Jughead seems on edge, his posture rigid and his eyes downcast into the bubbles of the jet. Its then that Betty notices something strange.

‘Jug, what happened to your hat? I haven’t seen you with it on this whole weekend?’ 

Betty regrets her impulsive question as Jughead’s hand snakes subconsciously up into his hair, wetting the strands on his forehead while the tips of his ears turn red. ‘I think I lost it in the river…’ 

‘Oh Juggie, I’m so sorry!’ Betty cries, her body moving of its own accord over to Jughead’s corner of the tub, her hand coming up to comfortingly lay a palm on his chest. 

Right away Betty knows this move is a mistake, the skin under her hand hot to the touch, his peck muscle twitching in response. Betty raises her eyes to meet Jug's and nearly loses her breath at how close his face is to her own. 

‘It’s alright Betts, better you safe then some dumb old beanie’ he whispers, the puff of his breath visible in the cool air as it swirls and reaches her face.

Betty knows it’s much more than that. His beanie and him having been inseparable since she can remember. Since the start of college he had made a habit of taking it off indoors amongst the company of his close friends. She had also witnessed him slipping it on in the face of awkward social situations or when they where in class or on campus with the prying eyes of their fellow peers. It much more than some dumb old beanie.  
‘Jug...’ 

Jughead can’t seem to focus on the meaning of the word; finding himself captivated by her own white exhale of smoke instead, his eyes tracking its progress between their mouths as the gap between them grows curiously smaller and smaller. He doesn’t have to look away to feel the scalding press of Betty’s other hand coming to wrap around his shoulder, her legs bracketing his hips as his own arms find purchase around Betty’s tiny waist. 

‘Juggie...’

It’s his nickname on her lips that pulls his eyes to her own; fear and confusion and need written plainly in her green irises. 

Jug’s hands tighten around her, pulling her core to meet his own. He watches in raptures as Betty’s eyes flutter shut, smoke disappearing until Betty’s lips are claimed by his own and he is consumed by the sensation of their mouths on fire instead.


	13. Grapefruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is wayyy overdue. Having trouble finding words or the desire to put them down. Hopefully my next update wont take quite so long. Sorry for the shit writing.

Betty couldn't be sure who had moved in first, whoever it was though, she would be forever grateful to. 

The snowy world around them, the tension from earlier, the many pesky voices in the back of her mind screaming 'What are you doing?!' were all massaged away by the soft pull of Jughead's lips against her own. 

He was much more gentle then this morning; shy, almost hesitant in the way he moved his lips against hers. Jughead's tongue only going so far as to taste her bottom lip, never venturing further. 

Betty took it upon herself to deepen the kiss, arms wrapping more tightly around his shoulders, her hips completely settling into his lap where something firm and warm pressed against her thigh. As she tilted her head to get a better angle, she eased her tongue into his waiting mouth, languidly stroking over his own with hers. She manages to pull a deep grown from the back of his throat; Jughead's tongue coming to chase after hers as he pulls her tighter to himself.

Unfortunately his long, eager fingers press a tad too hard into her mared torso, causing a moan of pain, not pleasure, to break their kiss. 

'Oh God I'm sorry' jughead slurs before his eyes are even fully open, his hands raised high in the air away from Betty's tender flesh. 

'S'okay' Betty softly replies as she quickly slips off Jugheads lap and drifts to the opposite side of the tub.

'Maybe we better go inside, this hot water might actually be making my bruising look worse' says Betty softly into the water, her eyes only peaking up for a second to read Jugheads expression.

A flash of what Betty thinks might be disappointment streaks across his face but only for a moment until Jughead usual mask of indifference falls into place. 

'Right, uh, okay'

'You can go first' Betty offers shyly to Jug, as they wade over to the stairs of the tub. 

'Ladies first' Jughead insists, not sure as to why Betty is hesitant to climb out. If anyone needed an extra few seconds to get certain body parts under control is was definitely himself of the two. 

Jug receives his answer as Betty awkwardly clears her throat and stands up fully out of the bubbling water and turns her back to him.

Jugheads eyeballs nearly bulge out of his skull.

For the first time in his life, Jughead understands people's obsession with comparing fruits to human body parts. His lizard brain taking in the smooth, toned skin of Betty's bare cheeks, conjuring up images of perfectly ripe grapefruit? Peaches? Either way, the impulse to take a playful bite out of one was definitely there.

Of it's own accord, Jughead's right hand comes to hover just above one of the fleshy mounds, fingers twitching with the urge to give it a good squeeze. His eyes devour the deliciously little strip of cloth that is the entirety of her suit, before Betty is whipping her head around, shocked expression painted on her face. 'Jug?!'

Jughead drops his hand as if its been scalded, his feet splashing him back a good 4 feet. He wonders if its possible his brain had fallen out of his ear after all the blood had left to visit the front of his pants. 'I, I'm, uh, yeah, sorry. I couldn't help myself' he quietly stammers out, eyes refusing to meet hers.

Betty tries her best to school her face into a serious expression. How could she though with Jughead looking like an ashamed puppy caught eating the couch cushions. She notices the way his large hands hover over the front of his boxers. Even under the water she can tell they are tented. It gives Betty a perverse kind of pleasure knowing she (or at least Veronica's swimsuit) was capable of illiciting just a primal reaction out of Jug.

An unfamiliar sense of boldness and sensuality washes over Betty as she turns around again and leisurely climbs out of the tub. Her heart hammers furiously in her chest as she makes sure to keep her back to Jug, slowly bending to retrieve her robe and sliping it on one arm at a time. 'Just...ask next time' she calls coyly over her shoulder as she saunters into the cabin, leaving a very hot and bothered jughead behind.


End file.
